


a very lcdp christmas

by givebackmylifecas



Category: La casa de papel | Money Heist (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Party, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Fluff and Humor, Found Family, M/M, Martín is the opposite of a grinch, Post-Canon, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, he makes christmas his bitch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:27:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28286223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/givebackmylifecas/pseuds/givebackmylifecas
Summary: “I just don’t see why we need to make a big deal out of this,” Sergio insists. “It’s not like we all have to scrimp and save all year to get each other presents for a special occasion. Denver bought himself a quadbike last week because he was bored. We should just do a dinner, but no presents.”“Absolutely not,” Andrés declares from where he’s sat on the sofa opposite him, one hand elegantly holding a class of wine, the other resting on the back of Martín’s neck. “I started buying presents months ago.”5+1 Christmas moments on the island with la banda!
Relationships: Berlin | Andrés de Fonollosa/Palermo | Martín Berrote, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 20
Kudos: 55





	a very lcdp christmas

**I**

“I just don’t see why we need to make a big deal out of this,” Sergio insists. “It’s not like we all have to scrimp and save all year to get each other presents for a special occasion. Denver bought himself a quadbike last week because he was bored. We should just do a dinner, but no presents.”

“Absolutely not,” Andrés declares from where he’s sat on the sofa opposite him, one hand elegantly holding a class of wine, the other resting on the back of Martín’s neck. “I started buying presents months ago.”

Raquel frowns, exchanging a look with Sergio. “What? Why?”

“Some of them are custom made,” Martín answers for him, handing Paula a wire with a crocodile clip.

She accepts it and connects it to the small battery on the coffee table in front of her. The tiny radio she’s building starts to make a static noise and she excitedly looks over at Martín.

“It’s working, tío!” she exclaims.

“Of course it is, I wrote the instructions for you, didn’t I?” Martín tells her, but there’s a proud tilt to his smile that’s not about his own ability. He turns back to the conversation with the others. “Anyway, I agree with Andrés. The fact that we all have money now means we should celebrate even more, not less!”

Sergio sighs. “Neither of you are even religious – Martín I’ve heard you say more than once that if you could burn down every church in the world, you would – why are you making Christmas a whole procedure?”

“Christmas is more pagan than it is Christian,” Andrés corrects him, with a smirk. “And Martín and I greatly enjoy pagan traditions. Bacchus wasn’t just the god of wine, you know.”

Sergio shudders and Raquel sniggers. “Alright, don’t scar your brother further, walking in on you two once was enough.”

Martín shrugs, relaxing into Andrés’ side. “It taught him to knock, didn’t it?”

Raquel laughs and Paula throws the adults a confused glance.

“I still don’t know why you had a whole loaf of bread in there with you,” Sergio murmurs, looking shell-shocked.

Andrés’ smirk widens and Martín leans forward conspiratorially. “I’ll tell you later if you want, Sergio.”

“Please don’t,” Sergio almost begs.

Raquel dissolves into giggles and Martín pours himself and Andrés more wine, looking far smugger than he should.

“Anyway, Christmas,” Andrés steers the conversation back to more child-friendly topics. “We should have big dinner on the twenty-fourth and do presents on the sixth.”

“Agreed,” Martín says and Andrés pecks him on the cheek. “Raquel?”

Once she’s managed to pull herself together, she looks indecisively between Sergio and Andrés.

“Think of the kids,” Andrés says, nodding at Paula who is still tinkering with her radio.

“That’s cheating!” Sergio insists as Raquel’s gaze softens.

She pats his cheek consolingly. “I’m sorry, mi amor, but Andrés is right. Cincinnati and Paula deserve a nice Christmas.”

Sergio groans and covers his face with his hands. Eventually he re-emerges and points a finger threateningly at Martín. “Fine, but everything else stays low-key – no going overboard on decorations and pre-Christmas stuff.”

Martín stares him down. “I won’t promise anything; your threats mean nothing to me.”

Sergio blinks and looks over at his brother. “Is he serious?”

“Probably,” Andrés says nonchalantly. “More wine?”

* * *

**II**

“Denver, if you move that garland one more centimetre to the right, I’ll castrate you!” Martín yells, adjusting his sunglasses.

Three metres above him, Denver wobbles on his ladder but stops trying to move the garland from where it’s attached to the palm tree.

“You’re a psychopath,” he yells back.

Martín shrugs. “I don’t care, come down here and help Helsi with the lights, Nairobi’s house looks like a funeral home.”

“Palermo, I put up lights yesterday!” Nairobi complains from where she’s helping Stockholm set up a four-foot tall reindeer next to the giant fir that had arrived yesterday and which Tokyo, Rio, Raquel, Sergio, and Manila are all currently trying to decorate.

Martín looks up from the spreadsheet he’d been contemplating on his tablet. “Nairobi, you put up a single string of lights around the front door, it’s pathetic – you don’t even have a wreath.”

“Bogotá is allergic to the pine that the wreathes are made out of!” she protests angrily, her hair falling out of its braid as she struggles to right the toppling reindeer.

“I fail to see how that’s my problem. Tell him to get over it,” Martín orders, then glances over at the tree. “Rio! I told you not to hang the glass baubles until Tokyo has finished attaching the ribbons.”

Rio groans loudly and puts the bauble back in its box. “Why does it matter?”

Martín lowers his sunglasses so his glare is visible. “Because if she has to try and do the bows on top of the baubles then she might knock them down and they’re hand-blown Venetian ornaments!”

“I hate you,” Rio declares and turns to Andrés. “Berlin, can’t you do something?”

“No,” Andrés replies. “Why would I? Martín has this all planned out perfectly and you’ll all be grateful when you see the result.”

“I doubt it,” Rio mumbles, going to help Tokyo with the bows.

Denver, who has finally made it safely off the ladder, glares at Andrés. “You’re only allowing this because Palermo gave you the easiest job and he isn’t yelling at you.”

“I’m in charge of the overall aesthetic and making sure Paula and Cincinnati don’t find out where you’ve hidden the presents,” Andrés disagrees. “That’s much harder than stringing garlands between trees.”

Martín nods, shooting Andrés a fond look. “Also, I’m not yelling because he isn’t a fucking idiot, Denver – unlike some people here.”

“And because he’s the only person here who actually likes you,” Tokyo adds from somewhere behind the tree.

“That’s not true, Helsi likes me.”

Helsinki makes a noise of agreement from where he’s untangling lights. “I do, but you’re being an asshole right now.”

Martín scowls and looks at Andrés, who shrugs.

“I like when you’re an asshole, cariño,” he says and Martín teasingly blows him a kiss that makes Rio and Denver – and Tokyo from what he can hear – fake retch.

“This is why he’s my favourite,” Martín declares. “Now, everyone stop complaining and keep decorating or we’ll still be doing this in January.”

* * *

**III**

“I still hate you, but I have to admit… this looks pretty great,” Nairobi says, looking around their little island.

Each of the houses is illuminated by hundreds of yellowy-white fairy lights and has a hand-crafted wreath hanging from the door. There are garlands with tiny, crystal-adorned snowflakes hanging between the trees and glittering in the reflected light. Light-up figures of reindeer and snowmen are scattered between the houses and in the centre of the space, where they usually have communal dinners, is the three-and-a-half-metre tall fir tree, decorated in twinkling coloured lights, glass baubles, gold bows, with a single, huge star at the top.

“I know,” Martín says smugly, leaning back into Andrés who has an arm wrapped around his waist.

“It looks like a fairy village!” Paula yells, dragging Raquel from house to house to examine the lights.

Martín taps something on his tablet and music begins to play, all the lights flashing in time to the beat. “I’m a genius,” he declares when everyone stares in awe.

“You’re an asshole,” Tokyo says. “But… you may also be a fucking Christmas wizard.”

There’s laughter and Andrés contemplates Martín. “Maybe I should get you a pointy hat, since you’re a wizard. I’m sure you’d look hot in it.”

“I look hot in everything,” Martín says dismissively. “Now hush, we’re going to look at the lights and then we can go and see the decorations I put up in our bedroom.”

“You put up decorations in our bedroom?” Andrés groans. “Querido, isn’t that too much?”

Martín smirks. “Don’t worry, it’s very tasteful. Just a little tree in the corner and some mistletoe on the headboard.”

“Well that does sound lovely,” Andrés purrs. “It just so happens I see some mistletoe over here.”

He gestures over at the space between Helsinki and Rio’s houses.

Martín frowns, squinting into the shadows. “Where? I didn’t approve mistletoe there.”

Andrés drags him over to the wall and produces a sprig of mistletoe from his pocket with a smirk, dangling it above their heads.

“Oh,” Martín says, grinning. “Well, mobile mistletoe is alright.”

“I’m so glad you approve,” Andrés says, before backing him against the wall.

* * *

**IV**

“Professor, you should make a toast!” Nairobi declares.

It’s Christmas Eve and the long table in front of the absurdly large Christmas tree is littered with half-empty serving dishes and the remnants of Denver and Tokyo’s food fight.

Sergio shifts awkwardly in his seat. “Oh, I’m not sure…”

“Come on, Professor,” Tokyo goads, still trying to clean mashed potato from her hair. “Make a fucking speech, you know you want to.”

“Speech, speech, speech!” Denver and Rio start the chant and the others quickly join in.

Martín rolls his eyes and takes a large gulp of the aged mulled wine that Helsinki had brought a cask of to dinner, declaring it to be his Christmas present to everyone.

“Be nice,” Andrés murmurs in his ear, hand sliding down Martín's thigh to squeeze his knee.

Martín turns to look at him. “I didn’t say anything.”

Andrés grins and pushes Martín’s glasses back up his nose for him. “No, but I know what you’re thinking. Let the kids have their fun, Sergio is something of a father figure to them, you know.”

“Eugh,” Martín whispers. “I pity any children raised by that man.”

Andrés rolls his eyes fondly and nudges him to be quiet. Sergio has finally been convinced to give a speech and has gotten to his feet – a little unsteadily thanks to the mulled wine in his glass that Marseille has been surreptitiously refilling all evening.

“Well, I know that I wasn’t the biggest fan of having a big Christmas this year,” Sergio starts and Tokyo and Bogotá boo him until Raquel orders them to shut it. “But, I’m glad we did this. I’m happy we could all enjoy such a lovely meal together – thank you to Helsinki, Marseille, and Stockholm for all your hard work. The decorations are insane, but amazing so thank you to you too Palermo.”

Martín acknowledges him with a nod and Sergio smiles fondly.

“I never thought when I put together a group of criminals to rob the National Mint, that I would gain not only millions of euros, but also a family,” he pauses to smile at Raquel who squeezes his hand. “You’re all crazy people, but I’m glad we’re all here together. Happy Christmas.”

He raises his glass and everyone follows suit. “Happy Christmas,” they say in unison, taking sips of their wine.

“Oh my god, are you crying?” Helsinki teases Nairobi, who was trying to wipe her eyes without anyone noticing.

She scowls angrily at him. “It’s not my fault!” she protests. “It’s the hormones.”

“Hormones?” Denver repeats, brows pulled together in confusion.

“Oh my god,” Tokyo says.

Stockholm leans around Denver to look at Nairobi. “Are you?”

Nairobi nods and then she’s being pulled into a hug by Helsinki, while Tokyo, Raquel and Stockholm fall over each other trying to get to her first.

Martín looks questioningly over at Bogotá, who shrugs. “We were going to wait a couple more weeks to announce it.”

“Congratulations,” he says and Andrés nods his agreement.

Andrés frowns as he looks at the pile of women celebrating. “At least that’s not something I need to worry about anymore.”

Denver smirks. “What, you haven’t tried to knock Palermo up yet?”

“What makes you think he’s the one knocking anyone up?” Martín asks and Denver pales, looking over at Andrés who smiles predatorily, then at Helsinki who just grins knowingly.

Bogotá roars with laughter and pats Denver on the back consolingly. “It’s okay, you’re still young.”

“No excuse for homophobic stereotypes,” Martín mutters and Andrés wraps an arm around him.

“Ignore him, he’s a harmless idiot,” he says in a low voice. “Look, I have something for you.”

Martín twists in Andrés’ arms to look at him. “I thought we weren’t doing presents until the sixth?”

“It’s just a little thing,” Andrés says and pulls a small jar from his pocket. “Another one to add to your collection.”

He hands it to Martín, who immediately takes the lid off and sniffs it, before examining the candle.

“I can’t read the label, what scent is it?” Martín asks, squinting ineffectually at the tiny, looping calligraphy on the side.

“Dark Amber and Ginger – I thought it was sort of Christmassy,” Andrés says.

Martín nods. “It is, thank you, mi amor.”

He puts the jar on the table and slides off his own chair to settle on Andrés’ lap, winding his arms around his neck and kissing him for long enough that Andrés starts to shift underneath him and he can hear the others trying to get their attention. He pulls away to grin at Andrés, whose hand has migrated under the back of Martín’s shirt, but when he goes to kiss him again, a hand appears between their faces.

“Absolutely not,” Manila say, wiggling her Christmas manicure in his face. “Paula is still awake and doesn’t need to see you two dry-humping. Now behave or I’ll spray you with a hose.”

“I’m not sure that will accomplish what you think it will,” Andrés murmurs and smiles lasciviously, clearly imagining both of them soaking wet.

“Stop that!” Manila orders. “It’s Christmas, but I’ll stab both of you with a carving knife if I have to.”

Martín rolls his eyes, but pulls away from Andrés just enough for Manila to narrow her eyes and nod. Andrés wraps his arms around Martín’s waist and rests his chin on his shoulder.

“She’s getting scary,” he whispers.

Martín scowls. “I liked it better when you were the scary one, that was hot at least.”

Andrés scoffs. “I’m not scary.”

“Oh really? Then why did Rio nearly wet himself when he accidentally set fire to your rose bush?” Andrés rolls his eyes and Martín continues. “Because, mi amor, you threatened to cut off his fingers with your garden shears. It was very sexy and terrifying.”

“I’m concerned by your obvious attraction to maiming, but I’ll threaten him again if you want,” Andrés teases and Martín laughs.

“Maybe later – or Manila really will end up stabbing us,” he sniggers.

* * *

**V**

By the time it’s almost midnight and Andrés announces they all need to go to the beach, everyone is just the wrong side of tipsy. Bogota practically has to carry Rio, Marseille and Helsinki are singing an off-key rendition of ‘We Three Kings’ so loudly that Raquel has to shout to get them to listen, and Tokyo has got a hold of mistletoe and is doing the rounds of everyone.

She stumbles over to where Andrés is helping Martín to his feet and plants a kiss on Martín’s cheek. He shoves her off with a scowl.

“Ew, what the fuck?”

Tokyo giggles. “Don’t worry, Palermo, you’re not my type either. Berlin on the other hand…”

Before either men can say anything, Tokyo grabs Andrés’ face and kisses him square on the mouth. Then she pulls away and runs off, yelling Nairobi’s name.

“I am going to skin her with a blunt spoon,” Martín threatens.

“I feel violated,” Andrés says blankly, then visibly shakes himself. “Alright, come on, let’s go to the beach.”

“Why?” Martín asks as Andrés grabs his hand and leads him down the path to the beach after the others.

“Wait and find out,” Andrés says.

Martín groans and then curses when he stumbles over one of the uneven wooden boards anchored into the sand. “Andrés, I can’t see shit, you know my eyesight is even more fucked in the dark.”

An arm finds its way around his waist, pulling him tightly against Andrés and they continue to walk.

“It’s alright, I’ve got you. And trust me, you’ll be able to see this,” he murmurs into Martín’s ear.

“Berlin what the fuck is going on?” Bogota slurs, having finally let go of Rio and propped him up against a tree.

“You’ll see,” Andrés smirks. “Hermanito, go ahead.”

Sergio lifts something to his mouth and from the static noise, Martín guesses it’s a walkie-talkie.

“làm nó bây giờ làm ơn,” Sergio says into the radio.

There’s a couple of seconds of silence, then a garbled reply that Martín can’t make out. He turns and frowns at Andrés.

“What’s going on?”

Andrés grins, tightens his grip on Martín and turns to address everyone. “As you may or may not know, in Argentina it’s tradition to welcome Christmas Day with fireworks, and since Martín is Argentinian and some of you spent a lot of time there too, I thought we should honour that tradition.”

Just as he finishes speaking, the sky above the ocean behind him erupts in gold sparks. There’s gasps and everyone turns to watch. More fireworks explode in the sky, red and gold and silver lighting up the night and reflecting off the dark water. And they keep coming, a whole rainbow of colours joining the canopy of stars above the island.

Martín turns to grip the front of Andrés’ shirt. “I know you did this for everyone, but I love you so much for doing this. I haven’t had Christmas fireworks in years.”

“Oh I definitely only did this for you, but it would have been hard to prevent the others from seeing,” Andrés says and Martín drags him into a kiss.

Above them, more bright sparks rain down and the gang whoops, but they’re both too wrapped up in each other to either notice or care.

“Merry Christmas,” Andrés says when Martín finally lets go of him.

Martín kisses him again, just a quick, firm press against his mouth. “Merry Christmas, I love you.”

“I love you too, querido.”

* * *

**\+ I**

“Oh my god!” Paula shrieks as she unwraps the absurdly large present Martín had just handed her.

“What is it?” Denver asks, Cincinnati on his lap, surrounded by Lego.

“It’s a DIY go-kart kit,” Raquel reads off the box, looking a little faint. “Martín, this is…”

“The best present ever!” Paula announces, launching herself at Martín and Andrés and trying to hug them both at the same time.

Martín exchanges a smug look with Andrés and mouths the words ‘best present ever’ at Manila who rolls her eyes.

“You’re very welcome, princesa,” he tells Paula.

“Can we start building it now?” she asks, practically vibrating with excitement.

Martín throws a pleading look at Raquel, who smirks but saves him anyway. “Wait until everyone has unwrapped all their presents. You still have some to open too.”

That’s enough to distract Paula and she runs over to the pile stacked between Raquel and Sergio, nearly knocking over Stockholm who is crouched next to Helsinki and taking pictures of him and Bogotá unwrapping the bottles of wine Andrés got them.

“Here,” Martín tells Andrés, sliding a large box over to him. “You should unwrap mine next.”

Andrés tugs on the top button of Martín’s very sheer shirt. “Only if I get to unwrap you later.”

“As long as you’re more careful than you were last time and don’t rip my shirt – this is Versace, you know,” Martín says with a smirk.

“Oh, I know,” Andrés says. “I paid for it.”

“Shut up and open your present,” Martín orders.

Andrés tears off the gold paper and reveals a wooden box. He frowns and throws Martín a questioning look, but he just shrugs and gestures for him to continue. Andrés slides the centre panel off the box and freezes. Inside the box are a pair of bronze cast otters, cavorting in a lifelike fashion on top of a marble base.

“Martín,” Andrés breathes. “Is this?”

“Yes,” Martín says quietly.

“From –“

“Yes?”

“How did you –“

Martín shrugs. “The curator owed me a favour – plus we’re rich now.”

Andrés nods, staring down at the otters. Martín hesitantly touches his hand.

“Do you… Do you like it? I can probably send it back.”

“Don’t you dare,” Andrés says, blinking unwillingly against the moisture in his eyes. “I love it – and you. Thank you.”

Martín pulls him into a hug, kissing his cheek and then his neck.

“Uh…” Rio says loudly from beside them. “Why is Berlin crying over a statue of a weasel?”

“I’m not crying,” André snaps at the same time as Martín yells: “They’re otters, not weasels!”

Stockholm giggles. “I beg to differ, you were crying.” She turns her phone to show them the screen and sure enough there’s a picture of Andrés, with a tear rolling down his cheek as he stares down at the box.

“Delete that right now or I’ll murder you in front of your child,” Andrés hisses and Stockholm blanches.

“Leave her be,” Martín orders.

“Yes,” Sergio sighs wearily. “Please don’t murder anyone on Three King’s Day. Anyway, everyone wait here – I need to go get Marseille’s present.”

Marseille frowns from where he’s setting up Rio’s new drone and silently throws a questioning look at Sergio. Sergio smiles and disappears off into his house.

“Do you know what’s going on?” Martín asks Andrés, who shakes his head.

“My hermanito is a mystery unto himself.”

Sergio returns shortly and everyone watches curiously as he carries a large box over to Marseille, who is still frowning in confusion.

“When I was going through one of the worst times of my life…” Sergio starts and clears his throat. “When I thought I lost Raquel, you were there for me and helped keep me focussed. You also shared some very personal things with me and I never got a chance to repay you or thank you. So I thought… Well, I thought now is my chance.”

He puts the box down in front of Marseille who looks around, then shrugs and lifts the lid off. There’s a strange yipping noise and a wrinkly, light brown puppy pokes its head out of the box. There’s gasps and Marseille reaches into the box to lift the puppy – who is wearing a little red and green bowtie – out.

“I'm not sure what type of dog Pamuk was, but this one, she’s a Shar Pei,” Sergio says, shifting awkwardly.

Marseille sniffs and nods, then gets to his feet, still cradling the puppy and pulls Sergio into a hug. “Thank you,” he says gruffly.

“You’re quite welcome,” Sergio says awkwardly.

“What are you going to call her?” Tokyo asks.

“You should give her a city name too,” Nairobi says. “What about Ouagadougou?”

Denver snorts. “That’s not a real place.”

Bogotá rolls his eyes. “It is, but it’s a terrible name for a dog.”

“Tallinn,” Marseille says decisively.

“A good name,” Helsinki agrees.

Martín leans over to whisper to Andrés. “I know we’re both cat people, but that puppy is really fucking cute.”

“I’ll get you a kitten next Christmas, if you want,” Andrés replies with a smirk.

“How about you get me a kitten next time we’re on the mainland,” Martín suggests, pecking Andrés on the cheek.

“Fine, but a pedigree one.”

“Oh, of course,” Martín says teasingly. “I wouldn’t dare bring a mongrel into our house, mi amor.”

Andrés laughs and tucks Martín against him and they watch the rest of the gang – their family – finish unwrapping their presents.

**Author's Note:**

> hope you liked this horrendously ooc pile of fluff. yes, they all live on an island again - you can rip that trope out of my cold dead hands, along with paula being obsessed with her tío martín. 
> 
> Anywho... happy christmas to all of you who celebrate it! i'd love kudos/comments or as always, you can yell at me on on tumblr ([@hefellfordean](https://hefellfordean.tumblr.com)) or twitter ([@angstypalermo](https://twitter.com/angstypalermo))


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